…and then there was the time I found a naked man in my bed…

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Know how the best stories start off innocently? You’re just going about your day-to-day life and then… things just happen. That’s exactly how it came to pass that I found a naked man in my bed one night.

I had arrived into Medellin, Colombia, earlier that day – a young 20-something gallivanting solo around South America. As I checked myself into a hotel I noticed the group of young men watching TV. How could I not? They welcomed me to Medellin and the hotel – a rowdy bunch, to be sure, but they seemed nice enough.

After ditching my backpack in my smaller-than-most-walk-in-closets room, I headed out to see the town. A few hours later, when I arrived back at the hotel, that group of young men was still hanging out in front of the TV.

“Come have a drink!” they invited. I sat down with them and readily accepted the plastic cup of rum and Coke they handed me.

Let me make it clear that I don’t condone drunkenness. The most memorable part of the first time I got drunk was being mortified by the thought that I would wake up Aunt Gladys while maneuvering through the obstacle course she called a staircase up to my attic room in her house. That and barfing up all the beer I had consumed. Getting drunk was not something I had fond memories of.

But this particular group of Colombian men was really fun. They were hilarious and easy-going, and I quickly fell into conversation with them.

I don’t remember their names – except Santiago. He’s the one who eventually ended up naked in my bed. He was a good-looking guy; must have had some of that famous Spanish blood in him. Fair skin, green eyes. Lighter-than-your-average-Latino hair.

We chatted. We laughed. We drank. One bottle of rum vanished. Then another.

And finally – at two in the morning – the fight came on. The guys had been waiting for some big boxing match and were thrilled that it was finally on. I can’t stand boxing. I bid them all adieu, and headed upstairs to my closet.

Or should I say stumbled upstairs to my closet?

I opened the door, rummaged around in my backpack for my contact stuff, and leaned over the tiny table to take out my contact lenses. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Santiago walk in.

He stripped down naked and climbed into my bed.

“What do I do with a naked man in my bed?” I wondered through my drunken stupor. But for now, I needed to pee. I took off for the shared bathroom and figured I would cross that bridge when I came to it.

When I arrived back to my room, Santiago decided he needed to pee as well. He stood up, pulled on his pants, and walked out of my room. I locked the door behind him and climbed into bed.

A few minutes later there was a knock on my door. “Nancy,” Santiago whispered. “Abre la puerta. Open the door.”

I ignored him and tried to drift off to LaLa Land.

“Nancy!” he whispered a bit louder. “Abre la puerta!”

He started pounding on the door. “Nancy! Nancy! Abre la puerta!” he shouted

I remained very comfy – solo – in my bed.

As the minutes passed, Santiago became more vociferous. Banging on my door. Shouting for me to open the door. Waking up every single person staying in the hotel. And he was missing the fight.

After what seemed like thirty minutes but was probably more like three or four, he gave up. “Well, then,” he said in a defeated voice. “Give me my shirt.”

I opened my eyes and, with the small sliver of light coming through the window above the door, located his shirt. Grabbing it in one hand, I opened the door with the other and thrust it out into the hallway. Once he had his shirt in his hand, I slammed the door shut and climbed back into bed once again.

All was silent for a little while, and then I heard another knock. “Would you give me my shoes too?”

Through my alcohol-induced mental fog, I kept my wits about me. What if he waits until I open the door, then overpowers me? Drunken rape is not something I want on my resume.

I looked around for options. And I found it in the tiny window above the door.

Taking his shoes off the floor, I fed them one by one through the teensy vent. I heard them crash to the floor.

I made a nosedive back into bed…

…and slept blissfully until six in the morning, when I was awoken by a little tap, tap, tap on my door.

Stumbling bleary-eyed out of bed, I opened the door. “Good morning!” Santiago greeted as he held out an ice-cold can of orange soda.

And then, very quietly and discreetly – so nobody but me could hear – he whispered, “Can I have my underwear back?”

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As it happens, I’m not the only one with a crazy story from my before-kids days. Tanya Koob, who blogs at Family Adventures in the Canadian Rockies, told me this story when we were talking about our young and foolish escapades.

You bought my plane ticket…not my body

I spent a year in South Korea teaching English after graduating from university – at a time when I was still very young, naïve, and innocent in the ways of the world. It was a dangerous combination when living overseas in a foreign culture, let me tell you! One day the owner of my English school introduced me to a business colleague of his and asked if I would go see a movie with him.

Not realizing there could possibly be any kind of hidden agenda there, and again, being very naïve, I agreed and went off to the theatre. It was a public theatre, after all. What could go wrong? Well, not even 20 minutes into the movie, his hand was crawling up my leg and I discovered pretty quickly that my boss had tried to pimp me out for the pleasure of his friend he wanted to impress. Not cool!! It was a very loooong movie as I struggled between being polite, not wanting to get in trouble with my boss, and wanting to just run out of the theatre screaming. In the end, I fought the man off till the end of the movie, politely excused myself and got the heck out of there immediately as soon as the credits started. Lesson learned. There’s no such thing as a free movie and men don’t take women to see a movie to practice their English!

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What about you? Got a funny story from when you were young and foolish – before deciding you needed to be a responsible parent? Spill the beans in the comments. C’mon – you know you want to!

About Nancy Sathre-Vogel

After 21 years as a classroom teacher, Nancy Sathre-Vogel finally woke up and realized that life was too short to spend it all with other people's kids. She and her husband quit their jobs and, together with their twin sons, climbed aboard bicycles to see the world. They enjoyed four years cycling as a family - three of them riding from Alaska to Argentina and one exploring the USA and Mexico. Now they are back in Idaho, putting down roots, enjoying life at home, and living a different type of adventure. It's a fairly sure bet that you'll find her either writing on her computer or creating fantastical pieces with the beads she's collected all over the world.